


Crack

by gregwillray



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 07:59:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gregwillray/pseuds/gregwillray
Summary: Red and Liz partake in a Christmastime tradition





	Crack

There had always been an impulsivity to fights prior. A split second of deliberation before the first strike, barely chance to flee before retaliation rained down. He never won those fights, but the surprise on Elizabeth’s face when the first snowball hit the back of her head with pinpoint accuracy always made it well worth it. 

This year, however, it would be a planned attack.

The snowball fight would start promptly at 10am.

They are both to wear black so as to minimise the chances of camouflage.

No pre-packed snowballs are allowed.

First person to hit the other 7 times is the winner and gets to choose which dessert Red is to make on Christmas day. His heart is already set on mince pies.

The disbelief in Elizabeth’s eyes as he told her of these rules was soon overtaken by the shining gleam of challenge accepted. 

But Red intends to win this year.

He can feel the excitement radiating off her the morning of the fight. She’s all smug smiles and taunts on how he’s only given her more advantage.

“You’re not going to win, you know,” he’s informed, a kiss on his head, and then she’s gone to don her battle gear.

He finds her in their room, zipping up her combat boots, looking terribly enticing in her skin-tight jeans and dark blue sweater. He’s not sure how focused he will be able remain when that’s what she’s wearing but he’s going to try.

He’s out of the house before her, his breath puffing out in little streams of air. Crouching next to the living room window, he scopes out the yard. If he rounds the back of the house and makes his way to the tree at the edge of the lawn, he could have a vantage point of everything happening. She won’t be able to hide. 

He’s getting ready to move when a snowball makes icy contact with the side of his face and he’s left staring at Elizabeth’s laughing form not two feet away from him. A look at his wrist confirms it’s still 3 minutes to ten and all the rules fly out the window. He manages to land a solid hit against her shoulder before she disappears around the porch, her laugh infectious. 

He needs to double back and intercept her before she takes up his spot by the tree.

Daring a glance around the corner he sees her busily pack together a few snowballs, obviously for a quickfire attack. He tries his best to be quiet in the crunchy snow but she spots him before he’s too far away and he’s running to get away from her, dodging the first snowball, jumping out of the way of the next when, oh shit, he’s slipping, and something definitely cracks in his ankle and he’s on his back in two seconds, in pain, blinking the lightly falling snow out of his eyes. 

“If you’re bluffing to get me to come closer only to attack me, I’m going to kill you, Red!” he distantly registers her saying. He’s still assessing his pain level but raises his hands in surrender when he hears her come closer.

“Lizzy,” he starts, wary of the teasing that’s sure to follow, “I’m fairly certain I broke my ankle.”

It’s not easy getting him inside. He can only lean so much on her before she can’t take his weight and has to stop, and he can only hop so many times in a row before his knee starts protesting. Though, eventually, noses tipped pink and fingers numb, they make it. She gently drops him on the couch, patting his chest and assessing his face, trying to make sure he’s all right without betraying the worry that’s sure to be in her voice.

“Can you reset a broken ankle?” 

She looks up in concern, his feeble attempt at lightening the mood obviously having failed. 

“We aren’t going to the hospital?”

“Even if I wanted to, which I do not, I don’t think we’ll be able to drive in the snow,” he peers out the window, the flurries having sped up, falling in earnest now.

“There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom, Lizzy. Everything you’d need is in there,” her concern doesn’t dissipate one bit. He reaches for her hand, clasping her cold fingers between his hands. “Let’s wrap it up for now. You can take me to the hospital as soon as the roads are clear. A day or two at most,” he promises, smiling softly at her in reassurance. 

She’s gone and back in a flash, barely enough time for Red to shed his coat and start unlacing his shoes. She silently sets down the kit and kneels to help him divest of his shoes. Tenderly, she cups his ankle in her palm, slowly sliding off his ridiculous Christmas patterned sock. He only makes a small noise of discontent in the back of his throat, but it’s enough to make her stop and look up at him in worry. 

Bruises already discolour his skin, though he was expecting that. Elizabeth tilts her head this way and that to get a better look at the injury. 

“Lizzy,” he calls faintly. “It’s only a hairline fracture, maybe some torn ligaments. It’s not the end of the world.”

When she looks up at him again, it’s with determination, not concern, and he smiles in relief. At his enquiry on her experience in applying casts, she simply nods and tells him that she has applied casts before, and that she’ll be slow and gentle as she can be. 

Even so, she pours them both a very generous helping of scotch and drops a handful of pills in his palm. She looks at him until he gulps the whole thing down, following shortly after him with her own. 

The combination of the pills and the alcohol works wonders on his empty stomach. He’s buzzing in no time, blearily tracking her methodical movements over his foot. The pain a distant throbbing at the back of his head which is very easy to cancel out. Especially considering her soft hands rubbing his feet and his calves, and her soft voice narrating what she’s doing – oblivious to the fact that he’s not paying attention to her words at all.

Her hands gently smooth over the finished product. She looks up at him in expectation.

“Excellent work, love. Thank you.” 

The first aid kit disappears one bit at a time and he contents himself with humming some Christmas song from his youth in an attempt to cheer her up. The twinkling of the fire draws his attention for a second and then his Lizzy is waltzing back into the room, hair down and face fresh. She looks him up and down. He spreads his hands in enquiry.

“I’m just trying to figure out how I can comfort you without hurting you,” and he laughs, and so does she. 

He opens his arms for her to make her way over. He pats his stomach and she rolls her eyes but straddles his waist anyway. He rubs her back and she lays down, kissing his neck again and again and telling him that she’s sorry he got hurt. But he’s not hurt at all. She’s smothering him in kisses, her warm body like a blanket on him. He’s more content than he has been in years. 

He kisses her hair and says, “It was all a ploy to ensure that you didn’t win the snowball fight.” She shakes lightly with laughter and it’s the sweetest sensation. “I hope you like mince pies.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gift to spaderislife on tumblr as part of The Blacklist Secret Santa! Merry Christmas, I hope you like it!


End file.
